


There's No James Madison in France

by avxry



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Cheesy, Cute, France - Freeform, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Modern AU, idk - Freeform, jimmy james is my dear i lvoe him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avxry/pseuds/avxry
Summary: James Madison remembers it, clear as day.





	

James Madison remembers it, clear as day.

_"I'm going to France," Thomas announces, a grin on his face. James raises his signature eyebrow and smirks, just a little._

_"What for?"_

_Thomas shrugs in that dramatic way of his, throwing himself theatrically onto the sofa beside him. "Oh, you know. New places, new faces, and all that."_

_James sits beside him on the couch, still giving him a look. "Is that so?"_

_Thomas nods, crossing his legs and splaying his arms on the armrest and back of the sofa, respectively. "I gotta get outta here, Jemmy. I mean, it's nice and all, but everything's always the same."_

_"Finally decided you're too good for small-town Viriginia," James comments, his tone light and joking as he tries to hide his bitterness. Realistically, he knows that it's true, that nothing really ever happens here; but some part of him maybe thought that he was enough for Thomas to stay, at least until they could both leave._

_Thomas gives him a withering look, pursing his lips and raising an eyebrow. "You know that isn't what I meant."_

_"I know, I know," James concedes, throwing his hands up. "I'm happy for you."_

_Thomas grins excitedly and starts talking about how amazing France is going to be, how much wine he'll drink, how it will be nice to be surrounded by people who actually understand the French language (as if James doesn't understand it perfectly well). James spends the whole time nodding and agreeing when necessary, hoping that Thomas doesn't notice how upset he is._

_Thomas is his only friend, and with him gone, what will he do? He surely can't make any more friends; he already knows everyone here, and everyone already has their own place in the system. He guesses he'll settle for just texting Thomas or something. He tries not to think about it too hard._

_The next week, they stand in the airport, just as Thomas is about to board the plane. James ignore his sadness in favor of committing Thomas to memory. Here in the horrible airport lighting, buzzing with excitement and lack of sleep, Thomas is nothing less than beautiful. James doesn't know how to tell him._

_He wants to kiss him for the first time, for the last time for a while, but he doesn't. He settles for smiling and giving Thomas a hug, wishing him good luck and waving him off._

_He goes back home and tries to not be upset that he wasn't enough to keep Thomas here._

Yes, James Madison remembers Thomas Jefferson leaving as if it were yesterday. Thomas was supposed to be gone for just a few months, he recalls.

And now, after four years, James stares at the text on his cellphone, trying to comprehend exactly what it means.

_I'm coming home._

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Okay, so, yeah, it probably means that Thomas Jefferson is coming home - home home, to Viriginia. But James can't really believe it. After the first full year of Thomas being gone, he had mostly accepted that he probably wasn't ever coming back. After all, who would trade the beauty of France for the monotony of Virignia?

James sends back the only think he can really think to say: _When?_

_I should be back Monday._

James stares at the message blankly. That's five days. Just five days, and he'll see Thomas again, in the flesh, with his own two eyes. He tries to not get his hopes up; Thomas never showed any interest in him, as far as he knows.

Still, James is in love with this ridiculous man, and he's coming home - home to him. He can't help the grin that spreads over his face. He laughs out loud, doing a little jump and shooting a text back.

_You're not fucking with me?_

After a minute, the response comes through.

_Jemmy why would I ever?_

_Just checking_ , James sends, giggling at the nickname, then adds, Man I'm so excited, it's been so long.

 _I've missed you so much you wouldn't believe_ , Thomas replies, and James feels his heart beating in his chest. He grins to himself, blushing fiercely and letting out another laugh.

_I missed you too Thomas._

~*~

James arrives at the airport at 6:39 p.m. to await Thomas's arrival. His flight isn't supposed to be here until 7:00, but James doesn't want to take any chances. He has to be there when Thomas walks off the plane, has to see him as soon as he possible can.

Times passes excrutiatingly slowly. James bounces his foot nervously as he checks his watch for the eighth time. The plane should be arriving any minute now.

The arrival is announced through the building, and James nearly dizzies himself with his quickly he lurches out of his seat. He swims through the crowd, reaching the gate just in time to see the first few people exiting.

And then he sees Thomas. He's got two little carry-ons in his hands, his bushy hair bouncing with each step. He's craning his neck to see over the people in front of him, his eyes searching.

"Thomas!" James calls before he knows what he's doing, and Thomas's head snaps over to look at him directly.

Their reaction is almost cinematically cliche; there's a breath, a moment when their minds stop working, and then Thomas shoves through the people, a splitting grin on his face and maybe a tear in his eye.

He drops his bags down clumsily and throws his arms around James, nearly toppling them over with the momentum, but James doesn't care, not even a little. He'd gladly hit the ground if Thomas just kept hugging him.

James breaths him in, smelling musky cinnamon cologne and that same stupid watermelon shampoo. He wraps his arms around his best friend with no intention of letting go. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth twisted in the strangest mixture of a smile and grimace that he doesn't quite understand.

James tucks his head into Thomas's shoulder, holding him close and relishing in the actual real-ness of this moment, of this man.

When they reluctantly pull away, Thomas looks down into his eyes with the biggest grin on his face, and yes, there's definitely a tear there. James feels some in his own eyes, fighting through the blurry vision to see the face of his best friend.

Thomas draws his hands up to cradle James's face and laughs giddily before pulling him into another hug, rougher this time. James lets out an oof, but he isn't complaining.

"Jemmy, I missed you so much," Thomas mutters into his shoulder.

"I missed you, too," James says, squeezing him tighter.

They pull away again, Thomas discreetly dabbing his eye with his sleeve. He grins again, and they both laugh.

After a moment, James offers, "Dinner?"

"That'd be fantastic," Thomas agrees, but then adds, "But I've been meaning to ask you . . . I don't have a place here . . ."

"We can drop your stuff off on the way," James says, his eyes sparkling. Thomas just grins back.

They gather his bags and pile them into James's car. The entire ride to James's apartment is spent with Thomas chattering about France. Most of these things James has heard before over texts or in phone calls, but they all sound so different when Thomas is sitting right there next to him, and he can see his eyes light up and his smile widen.

They drop off Thomas's bags and James drives them to the nearest iHop because Thomas insisted on pancakes. On the way, James nearly has a heart attack when Thomas reaches over casually and takes his hand, weaving their fingers together as if this is something they do all the time.

James can't find it in himself to complain.

At iHop, Thomas orders three plates of pancakes for himself, claiming that airplanes made him famished for some reason or another. James just gets some eggs and bacon, excitement glazing over his hunger.

He's perfectly content to listen to Thomas ramble about France some more, but Thomas stops himself when he realizes how long he's been talking and makes James talk about himself. As he does, Thomas looks more engrossed in the stories than a kid in a candy store. His eyes shimmer happily as he listens, laughing loudly and dramatically, as he always has.

They finish dinner, and after James insists on paying, they end up back in the car. Thomas takes his hand again, and this time, instead of being shocked, he just smiles over warmly, getting the same expression in return.

At home, Thomas takes an hour-long shower, singing just slightly off-key, but James thinks it's the best sound he's heard in a while. T _homas Jefferson, in his apartment._ He can't imagine anything better than this.

Thomas emerges from the bathroom fully clothed, his hair limp and dripping as he runs the towel through it again. James just grins at him and shakes his head.

"What?" Thomas asks, his own smile growing.

James chuckles. "Nothing. Just - I still can't believe you're here." He crosses his arms and leans on the wall, watches as Thomas tosses the towel into the clothes hamper. "Four years," he comments, "damn."

Thomas's grin slowly melts. His happy expression fades into something James would almost call regret.

His judgement is proved correct when Thomas says, "I'm so sorry, Jemmy."

"For what?" James asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

Thomas swallows and hands his head, staring at the floor. "I said a couple months, and - I don't -"

"Thomas," James interjects, bouncing off the wall and uncrossing his arms as he approaches the man, craning his neck to look him in the face. "It's okay. I understand."

Thomas looks at him sadly, pursing his lips a little. He swallows again and sucks in a breath. "I have a confession to make," he says in a whisper.

James echoes his volume when he says, "Okay."

Thomas takes another breath and seems to steel himself for the weight of his own admission. Finally, he says, "James, I - I'm - um, can I - can I do something?"

James looks at him with concern written on his face and asks, "Thomas, are you okay?"

Thomas nods immediately. "Yes, I'm fine, I just - I just want to try something," he replies, looking into James's eyes sincerely. "Tell me when to stop."

James watches almost fearfully as Thomas takes the one step between them and brings his hands up to graze his cheeks with the tips of his fingers. Before he can properly asses the situation, Thomas kisses him chastely.

James inhales deeply, eyes going wide and lips unresponsive for just a moment before he kisses back, eyelids falling shut. He reaches up to grab at Thomas's arms weakly, his knees nearly wobbling beneath him.

He's dreamed of this for too long, and Thomas pulls away too soon. Their eyes meet, and Thomas is silently asking if that was okay.

James lets a grin consume his face. He isn't totally sure what he's doing as he recaptures Thomas's lips fiercely, smashing their mouths together in a frenzy. Thomas lets out a moan and tilts his head down to get a better angle, clutching as James's shirt around his hips.

They somehow get pushed against the kitchen counter, Thomas's back pressed against the edge as James holds him in place, grounding him and drawing him even further in. James runs his hands through Thomas's wet hair.

They break apart when they can't stop their smiles from intruding.

Thomas's response is immediate, their eyes are barely even open yet. "I love you."

James feels his heart nearly jump out of his chest, but instead of trying to calm it, he just grins even wider and says, "I love you, too."

Thomas beams at him and kisses his forehead before pulling him into a hug, warm and safe. James wraps his arms around Thomas, _his_ Thomas, and sighs contentedly.

After a minute of silence, James mumbles into Thomas's chest, "Was it as perfect as you thought it would be?"

"Hm?"

"France."

Thomas pauses for a moment, then squeezes James tighter. "Nah," he says with a smile. "I mean, it's great, but there's one fatal flaw."

"What's that?" James asks, still talking straight into Thomas's chest.

Thomas smiles.

"There's no James Madison in France."

**Author's Note:**

> tada!!
> 
> i'm not the biggest jeffmads shipper but i Do ship it and i Did love this idea so here ya go
> 
> hope you enjoyed!! feel free to drop a comment friendo!
> 
> hmu on tumblr @a-lexnb !!! i love to scream


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